If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

by Walker, Shiloh

  She swore under her breath and took off her glasses. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said, “What kind of person does that to a woman, Ezra? What does it bring them? Why does he do it?”

  “I’m not a profiler, babe. You’re asking the wrong person.”

  A humorless smirk curled her lips and she leaned back against the couch. “Just humor me, babe. You might not be a profiler, but you’re a cop and you’re a smart guy. And don’t tell me you haven’t been doing some reading … you’ve been on my computer, remember?”

  Ezra sighed. “Ego. God complex. All sorts of crazy shit can drive a person to kill. The need to control another—make them feel fear. It’s not like taking a Polaroid picture, Lena. Profiling is pretty damn complicated, and it’s a little out of my league.”

  “The need to control another,” she said. She lifted her face toward his. Her crystal-blue eyes stared just past his shoulder. There was knowledge in those eyes, the kind of knowledge he’d rather she never have. “To make them feel fear.”

  Clenching his jaw, he watched as she slipped her glasses back on. Her armor. Her mask. In a lot of fucking ways.

  “Do you think that’s why he did it? To scare her? Hurt her?”

  “Didn’t I just say that I’m not exactly profiler material? I handled theft rings, Lena. This is out of my circle of expertise.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Fine,” he bit off. “Yeah, I imagine that is why he does it—or at least that’s part of it.” A big part, he admitted to himself. “He needed, wanted to control her—it wasn’t about revenge, or violence, it was about control.”

  “By staying here, inside this nice, supposedly safe house, I let him win,” Lena said, pushing to her feet. She called for Puck and walked past Ezra into the anteroom. She felt on the hook on the wall for the dog’s harness and leash. “I’ll be damned if I let some sick pervert scare me out of my independence, Ezra. You don’t have any idea how fucking hard I had to work to get it. I’m not staying cooped up in this house—I’ve got a job. I’ve got a life.”

  “You think I want to see you cooped up?” he snapped, turning to glare at her slender back as she got the dog ready.

  “It doesn’t matter what you want. I’m not staying home. I’ve got a job, and I’m going to work.” She stood and turned to face him. Lifting one slender brow, she asked, “Are you going to take me, or should I call Carter?”

  Clenching his hands into fists, Ezra closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Counting to ten didn’t do a damn bit of good.

  When he looked back at her face, she had an amused smile on her face. “Praying for patience, baby?”

  “Trying. It’s not working. Damn it, Lena.”

  “You can’t expect me to stay home because some woman I don’t even know was found dead a few miles from here,” she said, her voice flat.

  “Yeah … on private property—your best friend’s property. Not too long after you reported hearing some woman screaming. And now a woman is dead—probably the woman you heard screaming. You can’t tell me you’re not a little freaked out by the weird shit that’s going on.”

  “No. I can’t. I’m plenty freaked out, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to quit my job!” she half-shouted. “Shit, Ezra. You’ve known me a few weeks and we’re sleeping together. Fucking me doesn’t give you the right to tell me whether or not I’m allowed to go to work.”

  “I’m not trying to allow or disallow jackshit,” he bellowed. “And it’s got nothing to do with whether or not I’m fucking you. I think I’m half in love with you and I’m terrified that something’s going to happen to you if I’m … not … shit.”

  Blood rushed up his neck and he turned away, scrubbed his hands over his face.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Had he really just …

  Shit.

  He had.

  Muttering to himself, he crossed the foyer and dropped onto the first step. Sitting there, he dropped his head into his hands.

  “What … ah … what was that again?”

  “Haven’t you told me, more than once, that your ears work just fine?” Ezra snapped. Then he sighed. “Ah, hell. I’m sorry. Look, I’m being a bastard and I know it. I’m sorry. I’m just …”

  Hearing the soft, quiet sound of her footsteps, he glanced up, watched as she moved toward him. “Maybe my ears don’t work as well as I thought,” she said, her face unreadable.

  “Lena …”

  She knelt in front him.

  He could see the vague blur of his reflection, distorted by the glasses she hid behind. Reaching up, he pulled them off and set them aside. “I hate these things, you know,” he said quietly.

  “I get tired of people looking at me.”

  “The glasses don’t make them not look,” he whispered. Catching her face in his hands, he pressed his lips to one eye, then the other. “People are either fucked up, stupid, cruel, or curious … wearing the glasses doesn’t change that. It just gives you something to hide behind.”

  She wrapped her fingers around his wrists. “Nice, subtle way to distract me. But I asked you a question. What did you say?”

  The words were trapped in his throat. They didn’t want to come out. It had been easier, he realized, bellowing it out in a fit of temper and worry. But now, with her so close, and that soft, almost wondering look in her eyes … his heart did a strange little skipping thing in his chest and he leaned in, pressed his lips to hers. “I think I’m falling in love with you. I didn’t want this, I sure as hell didn’t plan this, but it’s there anyway and damn it, Lena, it would kill me if something happened to you.”

  She sighed against his mouth and he caught her lower lip between his teeth, nipped on it gently. As she opened for him, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap.

  She hadn’t pulled away.

  Hadn’t shoved his ass out the door.

  That counted for something. Clumsy delivery aside, it counted … right?

  “You’ve known me for five weeks, Ezra. Five weeks. And you admitted it yourself not that long ago … you just came through a really, really bad experience,” she said quietly, cupping his face in her hands. “How can you think you love me?”

  He laid a hand on her heart. “I think I started to fall in love with you that first night. You blushed when I called you beautiful … and then you shared your food with me. You got so nervous when I asked you for a date and I was scared as hell you would say no.” Smoothing his hand up, he rested it on her neck, used his thumb to angle her chin up. “I started to fall for you that night, Lena. I guess it’s why I backed away … maybe I didn’t think I could handle it.”

  “And what makes you think you can handle it now?”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure I can’t. But then again if I wait until I can handle things, then I never would do anything,” he murmured, rubbing his lips against hers. “Things happen when they happen, not when you’re ready for them.”

  She sighed against his mouth, a smile curling her lips. “That sounds kind of … well, romantic, Ezra. Never would have thought it of you.”

  “Hmmm.” Lifting his head, he smiled at her. “Oh, I can get plenty romantic.”

  Slipping his hands under her tunic, he caught her breasts in his hands, stroking her through the silk and lace. She made a purring sound low in her throat—a sound that had the blood draining out of his head, straight to his cock. “I want you naked,” he muttered.

  “Lover, that’s not romance. Is this your way of distracting me?”

  Ezra scowled, lifting his head. “Hell, no. I pretty much always want you naked. And why should I try to distract you?” Then he trailed a hand down her torso, cupped his hand over the heat of her sex. Through the cotton of her trousers and her panties, he could feel her. He stroked her through the material, smiling as her body shuddered. A glassy, dazed look entered her eyes and he shifted her around so that she sat on his lap, her back against his chest.

&n
bsp; He touched her again, this time pushing his hand inside her trousers, inside the flimsy barrier of her panties. She was slick, swollen, and when he pushed a finger inside her, she bucked against him. “I want you,” he whispered, raking his teeth down her neck. “I don’t see a day going by when I won’t want you.”

  “Ezra …”

  He used his free hand to guide her face around, catching her mouth with his.

  He had wicked hands, Lena decided. Wicked …

  And his mouth was just as bad. They’d been arguing—just minutes ago, she thought.

  And now he had two fingers moving in and out of her pussy, one thumb rotating against her clit, and he was kissing her, like he was dying for her, starving for her.

  Need knotted her middle and she braced her hands against his legs, her nails biting into the sturdy material of his jeans. As the orgasm bowed her back and tore through her body, she whimpered his name.

  She was still shuddering, still shaking when she drifted back to earth a few seconds later. And still sitting on Ezra’s lap, her legs spread as much as her trousers would allow, with his hand between her thighs, still cupped over her sex. A firm, possessive touch.

  He had his free arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

  The length of his cock was pressed against her butt, throbbing and insistent, but he made no other move.

  All he did was hold her close.

  Head spinning, Lena whispered, “I think we’ve both gone crazy.”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Hmmm.” She shifted and squirmed until he let her go. Rising, she straightened her pants and then returned to him, curling up on his lap, taking care not to put too much weight on his right leg. Carefully, she rested a hand on it, wincing as she felt the muscles knot under her touch. “I hurt your leg.”

  “I’ll live.”

  Pressing her face against his neck, she sighed and breathed him in. Man, she loved how he smelled. Warm, strong … male. Like sun, wood, grass, and heat. Like Ezra, she guessed. It was something that was uniquely him.

  “Did you mean it?” she asked, tracing the tip of her finger in a pattern on his chest.

  “I’m not much in the habit of saying something unless I mean it, babe,” he said, sighing.

  “This is crazy, you know. How can you know me well enough to love me?”

  “Lena.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I know what I need to know. I know that your laugh makes me want to smile, and I know that when you’re sad, it bothers me. I know I love to watch you, I know you blush when you realize I’ve been staring at you, even though it makes you smile, too.”

  He combed a hand through her hair, angled her head, and bussed her mouth with his. “I may not know everything there is to know about you, Lena, but I do know I’d like to spend my life learning the things I don’t know.”

  Her heart was racing, she realized. Racing, dancing, skipping, and doing all sorts of other things the heart just wasn’t supposed to do. Taking a deep, slow breath, she said, “Okay, so maybe you do know me. Somewhat. And maybe I know you. Somewhat. But we’ve only known each other a few weeks.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I don’t know if I believe in fate and all that crap, but I do know the only time I’ve ever felt this complete in my life is when I’m with you.” He hooked his hand around her neck and pressed his brow to hers. “I’m not going to rush things—it’s not like there isn’t enough insanity going on around us, anyway.”

  Insanity.

  Yes. Things were mildly insane right now. Mildly insane. Majorly insane.

  Screams.

  Dead women.

  Somebody trying to frame Law.

  A sexy state cop thought he might be in love with her.

  Lena wasn’t entirely certain, but she was starting to think she might be in love with the sexy state cop, too.

  Rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, she said, “I kind of like having you around, Ezra. I think I like it a lot.”

  His laugh was dry, self-deprecating. “You know how to stroke a guy’s ego, gorgeous, you know that? I tell you I think I might be falling in love with you and you tell me you like having me hang around.”

  “Your ego doesn’t need stroking.” Slipping her arms around his neck, she said, “Slow. We need to go slow with this, because it’s majorly unfamiliar territory for me. But … well, even with the mind-blowing sex, if I didn’t have feelings for you, what you’re telling me would have me so freaked out, I’d be all but shoving you out the door. But you’re still here. Does that count for anything?”

  He nipped her chin. “For now. Yeah.” Then he sighed. “You still insist on going to work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Shit.” Nudging her off his lap, he said, “Fine. I’m driving you. I’m picking you up. If anybody says one wrong thing to you, tell Puck to eat him.”

  A smile tugged at her mouth. “You bet.”

  “And stop humoring me.”

  She wiped the smile off her face. “You bet.”

  Sighing, he brushed her hair back from her face. “You’re a smart-ass, Lena Riddle.”

  “You bet.” Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Relax. The Inn’s always got plenty of people around. And I’ll have Puck with me. It’s not likely anybody would mess with me with him around.”

  SCUFFING HIS SHOES ALONG THE SIDEWALK, BRODY tried not to think about the argument with his dad and Uncle Remy.

  He wanted a cigarette. Needed it.

  But he couldn’t get his hands on any cigarettes and none of the guys who would usually buy them for him would do it now. Curling his lip, he wondered if his uncle had gotten ahold of them.

  He might have thought it was his dad, but he knew better.

  The only time his dad cared about him was when Brody was causing trouble.

  Hunching his shoulders, he tried to block out the memory of their voices. His dad’s raised, Remy’s soft, and low, as though he realized it was all the more effective for not yelling.

  The worst of it, though, was that look in his dad’s eyes. The look that made him wonder if maybe his dad did still care. That sad, heavy weight.

  The disappointment.

  Probably wished Brody had been the one to die instead of Mom.

  Brody wished it, too.

  Ever since she’d died, things had been different. Real different. His dad, man, he was hardly ever home. Gone all day, sometimes half the night. It was as though there were two strangers living in their house, not father and son. There were days when his dad couldn’t even look at him.

  A familiar engine caught his ears and he looked, watched as an old white Ford work truck rumbled down Main Street.

  Ezra King.

  That ugly, dark rage took root inside him. Uncle Remy was good and pissed at him—all over a bunch of fucking flowers.

  Bastard.

  Paranoia was bad anywhere.

  A drive into town proved that, actually, Ezra wasn’t as paranoid as he’d thought he was. He was actually doing just fine. These people? They were paranoid.

  It was ugly. It was bad.

  Bad for business … unless you owned a hardware store or sold guns.

  It was bad for customer relations, as evidenced by the constant sniping that led to a catfight breaking out between two ladies at the Community Bank on Main Street. It might have been amusing, except the ladies were in their sixties and one of them had possibly broken her hip when she fell.

  Paranoia, in under a week, had turned the small, tidy little town of Ash into a fricking nightmare.

  Ezra climbed out of his truck and watched as eyes slid his way, danced off to the side the minute he made eye contact, only to lock on his back as he headed into the café.

  It was Thursday afternoon and he was hungrier than hell. The café was his best bet, unless he wanted to trek out to the Inn, and even though he and Lena had made up after their argument, he figured it would be better if she didn’t feel he was hanging around her every s
tep.

  He was tempted, though.

  “… in jail already. Just don’t understand.”

  “No proof. Everything has to have proof these days. A shame, that’s what it is.”

  Ezra was careful not to turn his head and look, although he didn’t need to. He wasn’t hearing anything he hadn’t heard before over the past week.

  Half the town was ready to lynch Law.

  Even though he hadn’t been there.

  Shit, what would they have done if Law had been around?

  No fucking telling.

  His appetite faded and a lead weight settled in his gut, but Ezra didn’t get up. Law wasn’t coming into town much and neither was Lena. Ezra wasn’t quite settled into town life just yet, so if he wanted to hear gossip, he had to do it the old-fashioned way.

  Eavesdrop.

  “What more proof does he need? They found the … the … body.”

  “I heard she was violated.”

  Ezra curled his lip. Violated. That was such a civilized word for what had been done to that girl. Prettied it up—sounded so much nicer than raped. Assaulted. Sodomized. Beaten.

  “What can I get you?”

  Lifting his head, he met the curious gaze of the teenaged waitress.

  She paled, and backed up a step.

  Taking a deep breath, he blanked his expression and gave her a weak, lopsided smile. “Sorry. I was distracted there. Just give me whatever is up for the lunch special.”

  Not like it mattered. Whatever they served him, it would taste like sawdust, it would go down like sawdust, and it would sit in his stomach like sawdust mixed with lead for the next few hours.

  As she walked off, he tugged the phone off his belt and studied the time.

  It was just after four.

  He had a good four hours before he could head out to the Inn, and another six hours before he could hustle Lena out of there, take her back to her house and get her naked, get her into bed, and make love to her.

  Wrapped in her arms, he could maybe get some sleep, forget about the ache in his head, the weight on his shoulders, and the unsolved mystery of a dead girl’s body.